


Mac + Codex + Jack + Murdoc

by NephilimEQ



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angus Feels, Competent Jack Dalton, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Idiots in Love, Jack Feels, M/M, Murdoc Gives Good Advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephilimEQ/pseuds/NephilimEQ
Summary: Mac talks to Murdoc after dropping Clive off at the black site. Murdoc gives him some surprisingly good insight into himself and the danger he is about to put himself in...as well as insight about Mac and Jack's relationship. Mac knows better than to trust a psychopath...but what about when the psychopath is right?
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 73





	1. The Black Site That No One Knows About...Except for Those Who Do

Mac stared at Clive, talking with him making him even more confused than before. He wanted to help save the world, he knew that much…so was it possible that Codex was actually not as bad as it seemed? That their overall goals were the same as what Mac envisioned that the Phoenix was supposed to be?

He stood outside Clive’s cell, where the man in question had turned away from him (and was now pretending to sleep), and then mulled it over in his head.

Finally, he came to a silent decision.

However, just as he was about to leave the black site, he felt the odd impulse to go and check on Murdoc. He was no longer across from Hellman. They’d only done that at first, of course, to drive him up the wall, but they knew that if they’d left them that way permanently, then the two of them just might have put aside their differences long enough to try and find a way to escape together, and they knew better than to have that happen, so after about two weeks, they’d shifted Hellman to a different cell.

Which meant that Murdoc was all alone on his cell block.

Again, Mac didn’t know what compelled him, but he walked down to Murdoc’s cell…and was surprised to see his light on.

The assassin sat on his bed in the corner of the room, his eyes closed, but as Mac approached, he drawled out in that disturbing, spine-tingling drawl of his, “Oh, hey there, MacGyver. Visiting a new patron, I see. I have to admit, I’m starting to feel neglected. Am I not your _fav_ orite, anymore?”

He peeked through one eye and Mac let out an annoyed sigh.

Murdoc then chuckled.

“Well, well, _some_ one has come a decision. Look at that posture, Angus: shoulders back, eyes set, feet wide, hands in the pockets…hoo boy, you have made some sort of decision, but even from where I sit, I can tell that you’re making the wrong one!” he sing-songed at him, and Mac narrowed his eyes.

How the hell could he know that?

As if he could read his mind, Murdoc chuckled a second time and said, “Oh, you’re wondering how I know. My god, Angus, after all this time, I thought you knew that you can’t hide _any_ thing from me!”

And then he opened his eyes all the way and slid off the side of his bed in an almost lazy manner, and then sauntered up to the glass front of his cell, tilting his head as if appraising Mac like he was some sort of steer. Which, in _his_ mind, Mac surmised, was probably fairly accurate. Mac was nothing but smart meat to him.

He then said, “Oh, little mac junior… _they_ finally got to you, didn’t they? Good ol’ auntie and co found you?”

Mac’s eyes went wide, and he instinctively stepped back from the glass, trying to figure out how the _hell_ he knew about it. No one had known, not even his dad. No one had known that she was still alive, let alone that the Codex existed, so how did Murdoc know? He had been stuck in here for nearly a year, so how did he have any information on what was going on? None of it made sense. Mac took a deep breath, tried to steady himself, but then Murdoc spoke up before he could say a word.

“Oh, yes, you’re now scratching your head, wondering how I knew about her…oh, Angus. I researched you _extensively_ before our last meeting. Obviously, it didn’t help, as I still ended up here, but it did give me a wealth of information that I simply haven’t had the opportunity to use.”

He tapped on the glass and winked at him.

“Like the fact that geniuses run in the family, and I’m not just talkin’ ‘bout Daddy Mac. How is he, by the way?” he asked, turning and starting to pace.

Mac reluctantly answered.

“He’s dead.”

Murdoc suddenly stopped his pacing and pivoted on his heel to face him and said, “ _Really_? Now that…that was _not_ the answer that I was expecting. To be honest, I thought he had a lot more mileage in him. Despite what you may think, I liked him. He was like you, Angus…so of course, I liked him!” he practically shouted, suddenly yelling, waving his hands in the air. He took another step…and then paused mid stride and said in a low, almost uneasy tone, “But your aunt, on the other hand…well, she could use some gears tightened up in the ol’ noggin, am I right?”

He drew out the last word until it was two syllables, with his usual dramatic flair, but Mac didn’t know what to say to that, and so he stayed silent, instead, and listened as Murdoc continued to ramble on.

“I can already see that you’re wondering how I know about the Codex, and your aunt… Well…let’s just say that my skills are valued _every_ where, Angus,” he drawled, and then slowly sat down on top of his desk, which had finally been returned to him once he’d proven he was no longer a risk. “I was a high-ticket item for them. They used me quite well and rather effectively, on several separate occasions. …Though, I will admit that the only time I’ve ever questioned myself was when _they_ were involved,” he admitted, crossing his ankles and leveling his eyes at him.

He then took a deep breath and said, “You see, the Collective was just a group of people with money and influence…but the Codex…”

He leaned forward slightly.

“…They’re a tad too cultish and fanatic for my tastes. But their money was still good, so I did as was requested.”

His tongue darted out and Mac was reminded of a komodo dragon sizing up its prey.

“When I saw who was second in command of the Codex, I didn’t have to look very far to figure out who she was. Besides, you two _do_ share the same eyes, same strong jawline…the resemblance is almost uncanny. Looks like you got more of your mommy’s genes than from dear old dad. God rest his soul,” he said quickly, nearly sounding sincere.

Mac swallowed and bit the inside of his cheek. Still, he couldn’t find any words.

Murdoc continued to ramble.

“Knowing them, I’m not surprised that you’re considering whatever offer that they’ve shown you. After all, you’re an idealist, Angus,” he said, arching an eyebrow at him and resting his hands on the table on either side of his orange jumpsuit. “Like father, like son, I suppose. Though Daddy Mac knew better than to actually _believe_ in all of his idealism…one of the reasons why I liked the old man so much,” he admitted. “He saw and knew the world like I did: in shades of gray. It’s all _gray_ , Angus. It’s cute, though, how you keep on trying to make that white hat fit; though if anyone could make it work, it would be you.”

Finally, Mac said, “Why are you telling me all this, Murdoc? It’s not gonna get you out of here,” and the assassin chuckled and then sat completely on top of his desk, his legs crossed, hands in his lap.

“Good question. Well, let’s just say _they_ haven’t told you everything. For example, Codex has gone by a _lot_ of different names over the years, and when they tried to _recruit_ me into their little club, oh, _ages_ ago, I had to… _politely_ decline,” he intoned darkly, amusement glittering in his eyes, and Mac knew that he meant that he’d most likely taken out at least a dozen men or more when he politely declined. “You see, their overall goal is admirable: wipe out half the people on the planet and start over. I’m all for population control, you know that, Angus, but then that the man went on and on and on…made me nearly want to put a bullet in my own skull!”

He practically laughed out the last sentence, sounding like his usual manic self.

Mac was still at a loss for words, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he was still listening to the man. Why was he listening so intently to the ramblings of a man who had tried to kill him several times over, and still wanted to kill him? He didn’t know why, but he knew that he was intrigued, and that someone who had been inside Codex before just might be able to help.

And then Murdoc whined out, “Oh, Angus…you need to make sure you’re prepared for the snake den that you’re about to step into. So, how about a word of advice?”

“Why…why should I trust you?” Mac finally managed to get out, crossing his arms over his chest, and Murdoc snorted and shook his head and quipped, “Because I may be an assassin and the man who would kill you in a heartbeat if this glass wasn’t separating us, wrap my hands around that pretty neck of yours, but I’m not letting anyone _else_ kill you first. Have to protect my favorite _toy._ ”

Mac winced and swallowed down the bile that rose in the back of his throat at Murdoc’s tone.

“The one behind all the cloak and dagger, the man behind the curtain, if you will, is a man named Leland. He’s almost as charming as Hellman,” he snarked. “Though _much_ more dangerous. Tell me, Angus…how have you imagined the world ending? In fire or ice? With a _bang…_ or a whimper?”

Mac shifted and then answered, “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Well _he_ has, and I’m fairly certain that while I’m fine to see the world run itself into the ground, he actually wants to _do_ something about it. And men like that, men with _conviction_ , no matter how misplaced it is, are the most dangerous men alive,” the killer drawled, narrowing his eyes at Mac. “And he is someone who would see the world burn and think that he was _saving_ it. You’ve met men like that before, haven’t you? The ones that cannot be reasoned with…”

Mac swallowed, yet again, feeling his mouth go dry at what Murdoc was implying. He felt the urge to leave. To just walk away and disregard everything that the assassin was saying to him.

But just as he turned to do so, Murdoc started up again.

“You know…you are not the only one who talks to me. I may be in the middle of a black site, but there are still people who talk to me. People that just might have a message for you, Angus.” Mac stopped. And then Murdoc said enigmatically, “Let’s just say…there’s a phone call you need to make before you do anything. Because someone’s been trying to _reach_ you…”

Mac was confused at the turn of the conversation, and then Murdoc unwound himself from his position on the table and walked back up to the glass and breathed on it and traced four letters onto the misted glass with the tip of his finger.

J-A-C-K

Mac swallowed, blinked, and then Murdoc’s eyes went wide at seeing his reaction and he grinned.

“Oh, boy! I’ve hit a _sore_ spot, haven’t I? Lemme guess,” he practically hissed out. “He never called you, did he? Oh boy, oh boy! Tonight is the night for revelations! Can I get an amen and a hallelujah!” he cheered, throwing his hands up in some grotesque parody of jazz hands. “Apparently no one told you, did they? That Jack’s been in contact with the outside world? Not with you, of course. He’s in a dangerous position, after all, and would never risk harm coming to his poor, defenseless little Mac…”

Mac licked at his lips and asked, trying to keep his voice steady, “How can you know this? You’re, you’re just making this up to, to--”

“Angus, I _never_ lie.”

He glared at him.

“Okay, so I lie all the time,” Murdoc conceded, “But not about _this._ I swear on my son’s life.” Mac paused, and the man on the other side of the glass grinned. “You know,” he remarked, taking another step forward, “You’re not as much fun as you used to be. When Jack was with you, you had a backbone, an actual _spine_ , but this…god, you’re a shadow of the man I met, Angus…”

Mac swallowed, trying not to take any of Murdoc’s words to heart. The man was a master manipulator, and he knew better than to listen to him…but at the same time, he needed to know.

“What do you mean by that?”

Murdoc’s grin stretched a little wider, and he said, “When Jack was with you, you…you were more… _more._ I don’t really know the right word. Oh, I got it!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air. “You were… _grounded._ Steadier in the head.”

Mac hated that he knew exactly what the assassin was referring to, but brushed it off and asked, “How did Jack get in contact with you? _Why_ did he get in contact with _you_?”

Murdoc gave him a look, arching an eyebrow at him, and then tucked his hands behind his back and answered, “Let’s do that second question first: he got in contact with _me_ , and not with any of your lovely compatriots, because he’s still out in the field. Doing _dangerous_ work, too. Looks like he has his own Murdoc, a man by the name of Kovacs. A dangerous man with less than perfect taste, but a slight penchant for drama, much like myself, faking his own death, and all…”

Mac listened, despite feeling sick to his stomach as the man then said, “He reached out to me for information. Luckily, I was able to help.” He tapped his finger against the glass. “He _did_ ask me to pass along a message, though. To you.”

He arched an eyebrow at him, and Mac wondered just how much of what he said he could trust.

“He says that he’s fine, and that, mind you he told me to tell you this part word for word, made me repeat over a dozen times: ‘sometimes the best way to watch your back is to have your back somewhere else entirely.’ Now, that’s far too sentimental for me, but maybe _you_ know what it means. Do you? Know what it means?” he asked, gesturing with a flick of his fingers.

Mac flashed back to when they had first found out about Murdoc, and how worried Jack had been, trying to convince him to stay behind because it was the only way he could do his job.

Reluctantly, Mac explained, “It’s what he said to me when we first found out about you and went after you.”

He regretted telling him the instant the words left his mouth, because Murdoc practically preened, and then tilted his head in that way of his, locked eyes with him, and said, “Oh, my, talk about a knight in shining armor trying to protect the one he loves! And he doesn’t even know that you’re going after Leland and the Codex. Oof, what would he say if he knew that his boy was putting himself in dan-ger?” he practically twittered back at him, and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like that, Murdoc. Jack is doing his job. Kovacs is a man that has to be taken down just as much as the Codex does, and Jack and I always have each other’s backs,” he said firmly, not letting him get under his skin.

The assassin seemed to find that funny and started chortling, shaking his head, and then he wandered back to his desk and pulled out the chair, and then straddled it the wrong way around, still facing Mac, his eyes bright with amusement. Mac didn’t know what he found funny about the situation but knew that Murdoc couldn’t help but say what was on his mind, and so simply waited…and then wasn’t disappointed when he finally spoke up again.

“Oh, Angus…you two have it _bad._ ”

Wait. What?

“…And you don’t even seem to realize it. Remember what I said? That Jack keeps you grounded? Tethered?” he commented, tapping his fingers along the back of his chair. Mac quickly figured out it was the pattern of Home on the Range.

Mac slowly nodded and replied, “Yeah. What about it?”

“Oh, what about it, you ask, all sweet and naïve.” He leaned back and then leaned back in and hissed out, “One of the things that makes me so good at what I do, Angus…well, what I did,” he corrected himself, “Is the fact that I can _read_ people, and you and Jack were an open book! The way he looked at you, the way you looked back at him…so soft. You and he remind me of me and my wife, when we first met,” he commented, and Mac was even more confused. “Back before she decided to go off the rails, of course.”

Mac tried to keep up with the man’s logic, but found himself confused, unsure of what he was trying to say, and then Murdoc kept on talking.

“They way you stopped smiling ever since he left, the way you aren’t talking with Wilt anymore, the way that you used to. How that girl Jack left behind to protect you that you _clung_ to was just a band-aid on a broken limb…” How did he _know_ this stuff? “…all because you feel like something’s _missing._ And you and I both know that it’s Jack…”

His voice finally faded, and Mac stared at him, wondering if he wanted to know anything more about what Murdoc had seen between him and Jack. If even a psychopathic murderer could see it, then how many others knew that Mac had been in pain ever since Jack had left on his mission? Did the rest of the Phoenix team know that Mac had felt as if a part of him had died ever since Jack had disappeared into the shadows to hunt down his own personal Murdoc?

He licked his lips, and then broke the silence and asked, “What’s the piece of advice you wanted to give me about Codex?” and Murdoc cackled.

“Oh, ho ho! Avoiding talking about Jack, are we? Well then, that’s up to you.” He scooted back on his chair. “Fine, since you seem to care so much about this piece of information, I’ll bargain with you for it.” Mac rolled his eyes, but before he could say a word, Murdoc got out, “Before you go off, saying there’s nothing you can do, you and I both know that that’s a _lie_ , so how about you listen, hmkay?”

Mac nodded.

Murdoc smiled his oily smile and then proposed, “I give you what you need to know, and you give me another hour of visitation a week with my son.”

“Done.”

Murdoc looked surprised, one eyebrow arching high, almost lost in his hairline, but then said, “Well, _some_ one is certainly eager. Okay then. Here it is…” He stood up from the chair and walked over to the glass and beckoned Mac to move closer with a crook of his finger. Reluctantly, he did. And then Murdoc said in a voice just above a whisper, “Leland is a purist. He will _test_ you. History questions about plagues and sudden transformations in humanity’s history. I didn’t care for his style, but it’s right up your alley, Angus. Also,” he added, his tone changing slightly, “He is _never_ surprised. One of the more annoying aspects about him, to be honest. When I pulled my gun on him, he didn’t even flinch, which was rather disappointing, to be honest. _So_ …be prepared.”

He then tilted his head and said in almost a snarl, “You are going to have to _prove_ yourself to him. Which means you will have to turn on those you trust…”

He pulled back from the glass and Mac stared at him, wondering why he’d only tried for an extra hour with Cassian, why he hadn’t tried to get anything more. It was almost a flimsy trade…but he decided not to look at it too closely. He turned and moved to leave, but then Murdoc called out.

“Oh, An-gus…”

He stopped, back to him, and waited for whatever Murdoc’s parting words would be. Something dramatic, of course.

There was a long silence, the only sound the hum of the fans that cycled that air through the facility, a low vibration that lingered in the background noise throughout the long, concrete hallways, and resonated in some spot in the base of his skull, a constant reminder that he was underground. Talking to a madman. …and asking for a madman’s advice.

And then…

“Want me to deliver a message back to your boy?”

His breath caught in his throat. Did he? Dare he?

Licking his lips, he swallowed, and then said, “Tell him…” His mouth dried up, and he licked his lips and swallowed a second time, and then managed to get out, “Tell him to come home, already.”

He fully expected Murdoc to make some sort of smart remark, and so was taken aback when the murderer drawled out, “Normally I’m not one for sentiment, as I’ve said before…but I don’t blame you. You’re no fun to play with when he’s not around. I’ll give him your message. So long as you promise to come back to visit after Codex.”

He didn’t turn back around, but he did say, “Fine.”

And then he left.


	2. Mac's House in the Hollywood Hills...With A Somehow Perfect View of L.A.

Two weeks later, Codex was either dead or underground, Mac wasn’t sure which, but it was enough that he no longer had them as a constant worry in the back of his mind. Especially at that particular moment, when everyone was at the house, lounging around the firepit in the back deck, beers in hand.

Mac sat next to Riley, smiling as he heard her ramble on about some new band and talking Desi’s ear off as she did.

Desi was smiling at her, giving her a soft, indulgent look that Mac had only seen once before, and he knew that Desi had her eyes set on the young hacker. They were a good match, he thought to himself, bringing his beer back to his lips, taking a long swig, and trying to ignore the irritating voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Murdoc, saying, _They don’t know you anymore, Mac. They’re not Jack, after all_ , and he shoved it down, swallowing harshly.

He was fine that he and Desi were separated. The two of them had only ever gotten along during disasters, and that really didn’t bode well for any kind of relationship. Unbidden, Murdoc’s words came back to him; that Desi had been a “band-aid on a broken limb”. He wasn’t wrong.

Mac looked around the fire pit and smiled slightly when he saw Russ and Bozer talking in the corner, Matty joining the two of them. There were three people who couldn’t have been more different from each other, and they were all laughing about something that Mac couldn’t hear. It was nice to see that the team was feeling like a family again…though it wasn’t really a family for Mac anymore.

…And it never would be, he grimly realized.

Not until Jack was home.

If he ever even made it back home.

Mac felt his mood drop at the thought, so he stood and walked into the kitchen under the pretense of getting another beer, even though he still had half of his second beer left.

He saw Bozer shoot him a worried look as he walked back inside, but he just barely shook his head, silently telling him to stay where he was and let him deal with it alone. The instant he stepped inside, it was eerily quiet. There was the low hum of the refrigerator in the background, but other than that it was completely still.

He took a deep breath.

Leland was gone. Not dead, but most certainly gone. His aunt…was dead.

He’d never even known her, but he felt as though he’d been cheated out of all the time that he could have had with her, memories that could have been made. Had they been together for all those years, would she have been like a mother to him? He shivered at the thought, and put his beer on the counter, walking towards the living room, where his bike still stood.

He looked it over, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and let out a long sigh. The last time he had touched it, Jack had been there.

_“What do you look for in the perfect companion?” Jack asked, trying to finish his dating profile, and Mac quipped back at him, “Someone who likes bad karaoke and getting shot at,” from where he laid underneath the bike, working on it for the older man’s birthday, not wanting to ruin the surprise._

_Jack grinned at him, and drawled, “I already got you for that, sweetheart.”_

_Mac was grateful for the cover of the bike, and hid how his face flushed under the workings of the motorcycle above him, embarrassed that something as simple as Jack calling him sweetheart had caused his heart to skip a beat and his stomach to clench, suddenly aware of how vulnerable he was in his position, Jack practically between his legs as he was sprawled on his back, knowing that if Jack came over, he’d be helpless against him…and that he didn’t mind one bit._

He came back to himself at hearing the back door open, and saw Matty walk in. She walked over to him, glancing between him and the bike, a question in her eyes, and he answered the unasked question with, “I was just…thinking about Jack. And how…how I’d like it if he was here.”

She nodded and said, “Yeah. It’d be nice.”

Silence fell once more, and then she gave him a look and gently pressed, “I saw the security footage, Mac. You went to see Murdoc after you dropped off Clive but before you came back to the Phoenix, and then went awol before taking down Codex.” Before Mac could say anything, she added, “I don’t need to know what you talked about, but if you wanted to talk about it…you should. Murdoc likes to mess with people’s heads, and I think it would be good to know what he said to you to know where your mind was at when you made your decisions.”

Mac heard what Matty was saying, and nodded, slowly walking over the couch and settling down on its worn-out cushions and let out a long sigh.

“Well,” he slowly started. “As… _crazy_ as it sounds, if it hadn’t been for him, I think I would have been worse off.” He saw her eyebrow shoot up in skepticism and he rolled his head on his shoulders and said, “Yeah, I know it seems nuts, but most crazy people aren’t actually crazy. And Murdoc knew about Codex, Matty. He knew about Leland.”

At that, her mouth dropped open slightly and she came over and joined him on the couch, holding her beer in one hand as she said, “I know I really shouldn’t be surprised because it’s _Murdoc_ we’re talking about, here…but still. Color me surprised. What did you have to give him for the information?”

“An extra hour with Cassian a week.”

She nodded.

“Seems fair…though not much of a bargain for him,” she added, looking confused. “Why would he do that?”

Mac shrugged and said in an exasperated tone, “I don’t know. He’s Murdoc. He has his own reasons for everything, and not all of them make sense.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Did you know that Jack contacted him for information?” he said lightly, and he saw her shake her head out of the corner of his eye.

She fiddled with the beer in her hands and said, “No. No I did not. I don’t know _how_ Jack got in contact with him, what with all the security we have at that black site, but…somehow, I’m not surprised. If anyone could figure out how to do it without being caught, well…it would be Jack.”

She tried to give Mac a reassuring smile, but instead he leveled his eyes and gave her a long look.

Finally, he asked a question that had been on his mind for years but had never had the courage to ask.

“Jack’s a lot more competent than he let on, isn’t he?” he said, not really asking, just stating what he had come to observe over the years he’d known him. Matty didn’t say anything, but it didn’t matter. Mac could see from the look in her eye that he was right. He then said, “Whenever he would bust out the bad Spanish, I swear…sometimes I felt like he was doing it all on purpose. It’s like,” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, “Like he was constantly joking, being purposely bad at certain things, hiding just how smart he was, all so that the rest of the team and the people around him weren’t scared when things got really bad. Am I right, Matty?” he asked her directly. “You knew him back in the CIA. What can you tell me?”

She gave him a long look, and then put the finished beer down on the coffee table and then looked back at him, her face somber.

After a few seconds, she answered him.

“Yes. He wasn’t just one of the best, Mac. He _was_ the best. Still is,” she said with a sad smile. “Why do you think they wanted him to lead the op to go after Kovacs? Just because he’d lead one mission to go after him ten years ago? They handpicked him because he is the _best_ , Mac. You were right about the Spanish,” she added with a smile. “That boy is fluent in five languages, and can fumble through about four more, when he needs to. He’s done so many deep-cover ops, it’s amazing that he’s managed to keep a hold on his own identity. He keeps up with tech, though he lies through his teeth about it…”

At that, Mac couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling back slightly, his shoulder digging into the back of the couch, his other arm draped carelessly across his middle. He gave Matty a smile, though he knew it was lacking any kind of real warmth, and they locked eyes.

“You know he can handle himself in a fight, Mac, that’s a given,” she said. “But he can handle himself just about anywhere else, too. Do you know…” She paused, as if debating whether or not to tell him something, but then said, “Do you know that two years ago, during a mission, when Jack was with Cage, he knew how to throw together a dirty bomb because he’d been paying attention to you? And that it saved their lives?”

He shook his head, feeling something warm in his chest at hearing that. Jack had never told him about that.

Matty then said, “Jack Dalton is the best top operative that the CIA has ever had. He had the opportunity when he came back from Afghanistan to go and do just about anything and get paid a _lot_ of money for it,” she explained, looking at Mac imploringly, as if trying to make him understand. “Anywhere. Doing anything. And when I told him that, I fully expected to see him pack up and head back home to Texas, no question. And then he told me that there was only one thing he was going to do for as long as he could, no matter what.”

She gave him a look.

“And that was to watch your back.”

There was a long, heavily weighted silence, and Mac felt it as if it were an actual physical presence pressing him down into the couch, because he didn’t know how to react to that. He had always known that Jack was there to protect him, but not like this. For some reason, the words now hit entirely differently.

Finally, he said in a voice barely above a whisper, “Is he gonna come back, Matty? Because…I need him to. I need him to come back. So bad.”

His boss, and close friend, leaned in slightly and put her hand over his, gently squeezing his fingers, and he half-heartedly returned the gesture.

And then she said, “I think he will, Mac. For you.”

As if a dam had broken, Mac crumbled right there on the couch at her words, tears slipping down his cheeks and past his chin as he bent over and pressed his forehead to their clasped hands and managed to gasp out between breaths, “I can’t…Matty, I can’t…I _can’t_ lose him…!”

She lifted her other hand and placed it on the back of his neck, gently stroking her fingers through his hair and then leaned in slightly and said into his ear, “I know, Mac, I know,” and then let him cry it out. He didn’t know how long it lasted, and he felt a twinge of guilt at leaving everyone else on the deck, feeling like the worst host in the world, but he also knew that he’d been holding everything in for far too long and now that the dam was broken, it wasn’t going to stop until it stopped on its own.

Matty stayed with him the entire time, until his shoulders stopped shaking and he was no longer gasping for air but breathing normally again. He slowly sat back up, his back stiff from being in an awkward position for so long, and then he turned his eyes back to Matty, who just looked at him softly, with an almost gentle regard.

He took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he finally got out and she nodded.

“Of course, Mac. It’s been a long time coming, I think,” she commented, and he nodded, swallowed, and replied, “Yeah, yeah, I think it has. I just…When I came back from Nigeria, things were…different between us. And I know it was my fault. I pulled myself out of Phoenix’s reach, not realizing that I was also pulling myself out of Jack’s reach.”

Matty nodded and said, “He always kept an eye on you, over there, you know. I don’t know how many times I caught him using satellite time to check in on you. I yelled at him, the first time, but…not so much the other times,” she admitted with a wry grin, and Mac wetly chuckled, wiping the back of his across his face, removing the remnants of his breakdown.

“Do you want to know the message the Jack had Murdoc tell me?” Mac unexpectedly asked her, leaning back against the couch, once more making himself comfortable.

She shrugged.

“Sure, why not.”

Mac took a deep breath.

“Murdoc said that Jack told him to tell me that…that sometimes the best way to watch my back is to have my back somewhere else entirely. It’s…it’s the same thing Jack told me right before he tried to go after Murdoc alone,” he softly admitted, wishing he had a paperclip to fiddle with to keep his fingers occupied, instead wringing them together. “It makes me feel like I should have found a way to get onto that op team. Maybe…maybe if I was there, they would have caught Kovacs by now…”

His voice drifted off and then he saw Matty’s eyes go hard, and she reached back out and grabbed his hand again, squeezed hard, and said, “No, Mac. Jack is doing what he does best: keeping you safe. It’s what he’s always done best.”

Mac nodded…and the he suddenly felt drained, and as if he would fall asleep at any second, and his head felt heavy.

Matty seemed to pick up on it and said softly, “You can go to bed, and I can see everyone out for you, if you’d like. You’ve had a rough few days.”

Mac snorted and quipped, “Make that a rough year,” and practically melted into the couch, until she gently tugged on his hand, urging him to stand up.

He stood and then made his way towards his room…but then paused in the hallway and glanced back at her in the dim light and said, “Thank you, Matty. For…everything,” and she just smiled back at him, nodded, and then waved her hand and said, “Get to bed, Mac. And don’t even _think_ about coming into work tomorrow. Or for the rest of the week,” she added with a stern glare.

He mockingly saluted her, “Yes, ma’am,” and she gave him an amused scowl and then turned to head back out onto the deck.

Feeling more and more tired with each and every step, Mac dragged himself to bed, just barely having the presence of mind to remove his socks and shoes and shove down his jeans and drag his shirt over his head. He collapsed on top of his covers, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.

\--

By the time he came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was cold. Why was he cold? He slowly lifted his head from the pillow, wiping away the line of spit that connected his mouth to the linen, and rubbed a hand over bleary eyes and tried to figure it out.

Oh, right. He’d fallen asleep nearly naked and on top of his covers. _That’s_ why he was cold.

His head only lightly throbbing, because he’d only had two beers the night before, he managed to fumble over to his dresser without tripping over his messily discarded clothes on the floor, and threw on a t-shirt over his shoulders, not really paying attention to what it was, absently scratching at his side as he padded into the kitchen, dimly noticing that it was raining, realizing that it had been thunder that had woken him up. A rare occurrence for the Hollywood Hills, but not so uncommon.

He could use a rainy day inside.

Bozer no longer lived there, sharing an apartment with Leanna, though Riley had started crashing at his place on occasion…but since he didn’t see her combat boots strewn next to the door, he guessed that she had gone back to her own apartment last night. That was a good sign.

Still waking up, he wandered over to the fridge, hoping to find some food leftover from the day before, as his cooking skills were even _less_ reliable when he was tired. Not that they were all that reliable to begin with, though they were improving. A blast of cold air washed over him as he opened the fridge and he squinted as he peered inside, looking for something resembling breakfast food. He could always have cereal, but cereal never filled him up as well as other breakfast foods.

Unable to find anything, he closed the door and reached for the cereal on top of the fridge, pulling out a bowl from the closest cupboard.

As he poured the cereal, he noticed that Riley’s coat was tossed onto the arm of his couch, and he rolled his eyes. If he had a dollar for every time that she left something at his house, he’d have…well, not quite twenty dollars, but it was enough times that he knew that she was developing a bad habit.

He poured milk over the frosted oats, and then scrubbed a hand over his face yet again as meandered over to the counter and sat down on one of the stools that he still needed to fix a leg on. The stool tilted as he sat on it, but he brushed it off.

He could deal with it later.

Memories of his conversation with Matty from the night before came, unbidden, into his head. He hadn’t broken down like that in front of anyone before, except…except in front of Jack.

Oh, now _there_ was a memory that he hadn’t thought of in a long time. It had been after one of the rougher days in the sandbox, and he’d barely gotten one of the IEDs deactivated in time, and it had been such a close call, that later that night in their shared quarters, Mac had broken down, hands shaking, sitting on the floor with his head between his knees, and Jack had been there, right across from him, hands around his wrists, grounding him.

Just the way Murdoc said that Jack did. It was scary how that man knew him and Jack so well; scary how he knew that Mac had been feeling lost ever since Jack had gone off after Kovacs.

Mac barely tasted the cereal in his mouth, instead listening as the rain came down harder onto the roof, glancing into the living room at the motorcycle that still sat there, waiting for him to finish it. It was a good day for finishing a project like that, he thought to himself, trying to pull himself from the downward spiral that his thoughts were taking him.

Feeling as unbalanced as the stool that he was sitting on, Mac suddenly stood and walked over to the machine, leaving his breakfast behind him.

He ran a hand over the handlebars and remembered the expression on Jack’s face when he’d first brought it into the house, looking for all the world like a six year old on Christmas morning, even though Mac had never told him that he was fixing it up just for him. He now wished that he _had_ told him. Jack would have definitely appreciated it.

Mac gave it a long look…and then was pulled out of his reverie at hearing the front door open and close behind him.

Not looking back, he shouted over his shoulder, “Your coat’s over on the couch,” and gestured with his hand, not bothering to look up, and then he quickly added, “Take off your shoes before you come in, Riles! I don’t want you dripping water all over the hardwood…”

“Shoes off, you got it, hoss.”

When he heard the familiar drawl, Mac nearly tripped over his own feet as he turned around as quickly as he could. He was hallucinating. That was the only explanation. Or he was dreaming. Yeah, that was a definite possibility, too. Because suddenly, standing in his foyer, shaking out his hair and shrugging off his leather coat, acting as if it was just another average morning…was Jack.

Jack.


	3. All the Yelling and Interruptions and, Of Course, Making Up

As Jack kicked off his shoes, he gave Mac a long once over, and then said, running his hands over his hair and flicking out the last remaining bits of water, “What? No hug for your best friend?”

Mac swallowed and opened his mouth…but nothing came out. Jack was here. It certainly seemed to be real, that much was certain, because even from where he stood, he could see the weariness behind the Delta’s eyes and the slow way that he moved his body, as if he was stiff from a long, cramped journey.

Jack took a step towards him, one hand outstretched, and said in a concerned tone, “Hey…you alright, Mac?”

“You’re, you’re--you’re…you’re back…?”

He barely managed to gasp that much out, because, for some unknown reason, the air in the room was getting harder and harder to breathe, and every breath felt like he was pulling water into his lungs. Jack carefully approached him and reached out and gently touched Mac’s wrist…

…and that did it.

Not even bothering to hold himself back, Mac threw himself at Jack, wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him into the tightest hug that he could, still feeling as if he was going to wake up any minute, and held onto him like a life raft. Jack held him back just as tightly, his arms going tight around his waist, and Mac didn’t even think about it as he buried his face into the older man’s neck, feeling the tears slip past his eyelids onto Jack’s skin.

Jack.

He was _home._

He heard something like a whimper push out of his throat, but he tried to muffle it and pressed himself even closer to the man, not caring that he was still a bit damp from being outside in the rain. Jack was _home._ He didn’t know how long he clung to him, but it was long enough that eventually Jack coughed slightly and slid one of his hands from his back to his side and lightly tapped him.

“Hey, man,” he said softly. “I missed you, too. Uh, but do you mind…uh, letting me go? Kinda havin’ trouble breathin’…”

Mac nearly shook his head and said no, because he was terrified that the instant he let go that Jack would simply cease to exist. Instead, however, he nodded and slowly pulled back, moving his hands to Jack’s shoulders. As soon as they were an arm’s length away, he opened his mouth to speak…and found that he couldn’t say a word.

Jack gave him a half smile, but Mac could see the worry etched around his eyes as he asked, “You…you okay, Mac?”

He slowly dropped his hands from Jack’s shoulders, slightly dragging the tips of his fingers over Jack’s chest, still trying to reassure himself that it was real, and that Jack was home, and then brought his hands back to his sides, clenching his fists, still trying to reconcile the fact that Jack was _back_ , and he’d given them no warning that he was coming back. Not a single bit of warning, whatsoever. He hadn’t called, he hadn’t texted, e-mailed…nothing.

And, unexpectedly, Mac felt a surge of anger rise in the back of his throat.

“I know I should have called,” Jack started, but Mac cut him off, unable to keep from shouting, “What the hell, Jack?” and he saw Jack flinch.

Jack opened his mouth as if to talk again, but Mac didn’t let him, and kept on going, saying at full volume, “You cut out to go after Kovacs, and all I got was a lousy evening with you the day before, where we never actually said goodbye, just doing that stupid guy-thing where we watch movies and eat bad food and don’t look at each other or actually talk about anything…and then the next day you give me a handshake and that’s it?!”

The soldier looked away at that, unable to look him in the eye, and so Mac kept on going.

“You leave, and then I had to hear it from _Desi_ that you were doing okay, and apparently you found a way to contact Riley, because she’s mentioned an e-mail or two, and you even contacted _Murdoc_ , of all people…but I get _nothing?_ ”

Jack looked back up at that, the expression in his eyes saying he was ready to fight, but, again, Mac didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“I lose my _best_ friend, the one who has had my back since…well, feels pretty close to forever at this point, and the best you can do, apparently, is _nothing!”_ He waved his hands, really getting worked up at that point. “Do you have _any_ idea how hard it’s been for me, Jack? Do you? It’s like you decided to write yourself completely out of my life, and every day you were gone I had to wonder if you were even still _alive_ because no one was supposed to know anything about your op, and, my god, I could kill you right now!”

At that, Jack nodded.

“Yeah, I can…I can see that,” he said softly. He then shoved his hands into his pockets and said, “Look, Mac, I know I screwed up. I screwed up _big_ time, but…you gotta understand I did what I did for the right reasons.”

Mac scoffed, threw his head back and rolled his eyes, and then gestured towards him and spat out, “Right reasons, of course. Because doing a shitty thing for the right reasons makes it _so_ much better,” and turned around and headed back towards the kitchen to put away his now soggy cereal, but Jack shot out his hand and caught him by the arm and shook his head.

“Oh no, you don’t say something like that and walk away from me, man!” he growled at him.

Mac looked back at him, most of the anger gone, feeling drained.

“Let go of my arm, Jack,” he said, suddenly feeling bone weary, no more fight left in him. Jack had made his decision, and it was over and done with. Mac didn’t need to know the reasons. He knew exactly why Jack had left: to go after Kovacs. If he’d wanted to stay in touch with Mac, then he would have. He hadn’t. So, it was obvious to Mac that he had made a conscious decision not to contact him. As much as it burned him up, and as much as he wanted to know the reason why, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference if he _did_ know. The action couldn’t be undone.

So, instead Mac softly begged him, “Please…”

But Jack shook his head and snarled out, “No, I’m not lettin’ go until you listen to me, Mac!”

He thought about yanking his arm out of his grip, but a part of him was curious as to what Jack was going to say, so instead he didn’t move and waited with baited breath, wondering what the explanation would be; how Jack would try and rationalize his actions…or, inaction as it was.

Mac looked back at Jack, and then watched as the Delta took a deep breath and said, “I’m not gonna lie, you’re definitely right about a lot of things. It was shitty of me to not contact you, let you know that I was alright. But Mac…I…I just _couldn’t._ ”

His grip let up slightly, as if giving him the chance to pull away, but Mac stayed where he was, even as Jack’s hand finally fell from his arm, and he waited to hear the rest of his explanation.

“I…Leaving you is the… _hardest_ thing that I have ever done in my life. I couldn’t do it the first time, remember?” he said, with a sad smile. “I was about to step on that plane, to go back home after my tour, but instead, like some dumbass, I turned around and signed up for _another_ tour in the sandbox! For you! Mac…I wouldn’t have done that for anyone else. Not even for one of my own brothers…”

He suddenly felt confused, and wasn’t sure what Jack was trying to say.

“So, when I knew that I was going to have to leave to go after Kovacs, I knew that when I left, I _had_ to make a clean break.” His eyes were wide and his tone imploring. “God, Mac…if I heard your voice, even once, I knew that I would have found the nearest flight and been back home without even thinking about it, because it’s _you._ You are the _only_ one that I would drop everything for, without question, without even needing to know why, and I _couldn’t_ risk it, man…”

Mac stared at him, and then took a step towards him, trying to close some of the distance between the two of them. Jack gave him a look, licked his lips, and then dropped his eyes back to the floor and gestured helplessly in front of himself as he kept on talking.

“Kovacs being alive all these years meant that he’d researched me and knew that you are the most important person in my life, and if I hadn’t gone after him…he would have gone after you, Mac. And I couldn’t risk it. I could _not_ risk it,” he repeated vehemently in a voice barely above a whisper, and Mac just looked at him, still trying to put the pieces together. “I knew that the only way that I could keep you safe was by having your back somewhere else,” he drawled, and Mac was suddenly reminded of Murdoc.

Finally finding his voice, he said, “Murdoc…he, he told me,” and Jack’s eyes slipped closed and he let out an even longer sigh than before.

“You talked to Murdoc.”

Mac nodded.

“Yeah, I did. Right after we caught Clive, one of the agents for--”

“The Codex, yeah, I know,” Jack finished for him, opening his eyes, and Mac’s eyebrow shot up, wondering how he knew, and Jack explained, “Matty’s been sending me encrypted e-mails about everything that’s been going on. She wouldn’t tell me anything about you, though. She kept your name out of them. So…what _have_ you been up to, hoss?”

Something between them seemed to slide into place as he said the familiar endearment, and Mac lightly laughed and then walked back into the living room and moved over to the couch, tossing over his shoulder as he went, “Why don’t we sit down and catch up. It’s, uh…kind of a long story. And not exactly one that you’ll want to hear,” he reluctantly admitted, thinking of all the danger that he’d put himself into over the past year and a half, knowing that Jack would chew him out at hearing every stupidly dangerous thing that he’d done.

Jack just nodded and followed him into the living room, and they sat on the couch. Mac started off sitting on the far side, and was surprised when Jack didn’t sit on the other end of the couch, but right next to him, his thigh flush against Mac’s, and he felt an odd feeling in his chest and a warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Jack then reached down and patted his hand against Mac’s thigh and said, “Don’t worry about tellin’ me the details, Mac. Just…tell me that you’re okay…”

He nodded, and muttered, “Yeah, I’m…I’m okay.”

Jack nodded back at him and a comfortable silence fell between them, and Mac relished the fact that Jack was home, feeling his anger subside, instead something else entirely taking its place in his chest, but he didn’t know what it was. It felt familiar, but also incredibly strange, like…no. His heart had immediately wanted to compare the feeling to when he’d been with Nikki, but he overruled it with logic, because Jack was his _friend._ His _best_ friend.

Unable to help himself, Mac said, “Desi…Desi and I dated,” and Jack’s eyes snapped up to his when he said it.

“You two…dated?” he asked, sounding incredulous, and Mac rolled his eyes and quipped, “Gee, you don’t have to sound so shocked, Jack. She’s an attractive woman, I’m an attractive guy; yes, we dated, but then realized that we only seemed to get along in the middle of danger, so…we broke it off.”

Jack shook his head and commented, “God, you have the _worst_ taste in women, I swear. I leave you alone for two minutes, and who do you go for? The woman I picked to watch your back! Guess she was also watching your front, too, huh?”

Mac snorted and replied, “Yeah, more or less. But she wasn’t as good as you were, Jack.”

Jack arched an eyebrow at him, and Mac was suddenly aware of how it sounded and coughed and said, “No, I didn’t mean, god, I didn’t--didn’t mean it _that_ way, I meant the watching my back part. That you were better at watching my back, not my front, I just…”

And then Jack was laughing, tossing his head back, and leaning back into the couch and laughing so hard that his eyes were doing that thing that Mac loved, where they crinkled up in the corners so that he could barely see his eyes, and Mac gave a faint chuckle in return.

Finally catching his breath, Jack said, “God, I missed this, hoss. You and me, and you bein’ all socially awkward,” and he couldn’t help but say in return, “I missed this, too, Jack.”

They sat there for a moment, just smiling at each other, and then Jack leaned forward and wrapped a large hand around the back of Mac’s neck, lightly squeezing, and, while still smiling, the Delta said, “Do you think you can forgive me for not contactin’ you? It was entirely selfish of me, and you’re right when you said that I should have done something, and I get you bein’ all upset about Murdoc. Hell, I would be, too,” he drawled, giving him a commiserating look, “And so I don’t blame you if it takes you a while to forgive me.”

His body acting on instinct, he brought his right hand up and wrapped it around Jack’s left on his neck, the position causing him to lean in slightly, and murmured, “You’re already forgiven.”

And then they locked eyes and something…shifted.

Jack’s hand on the back of his neck tightened, and Mac then realized that their faces were surprisingly close; he could feel Jack’s breath on his cheek, and their legs had shifted so that Mac’s right knee was almost neatly tucked between Jack’s splayed thighs, the Delta’s left thigh snug up against the back of the couch, his right leg dangling over the edge of the cushion. Jack’s right hand was resting on the couch between them, but Mac saw the aborted movement towards his own thigh…and suddenly his mouth went dry.

He darted out his tongue and licked his lips and then swallowed, aware of the fact that Jack’s eyes seemed glued to him and followed the movement of his tongue…

…and then he wasn’t entirely sure who moved first, but suddenly they were kissing.

It was entirely inelegant, open mouths pushing together, not quite meeting perfectly, a mashing of lips and teeth, and it hurt just a little bit, but then Jack breathed out, “Mac,” and he took the chance and slipped his tongue between his parted lips, and then it was just sweet, wet heat, and then Mac was pressed up against the arm of his couch, his thighs on top of Jack’s as the man leaned over him and tugged on his lower lip with his teeth, and Mac keened into his mouth, welcoming the slight pain that brought a zing down his spine to between his legs.

Mac’s hands had slid up and around the back of Jack’s neck, not enough hair for him to grab onto, so instead he kept his hands on his neck, while Jack’s hands wandered, one on his hip and the other one in the process of sliding up under Mac’s shirt, causing the genius’s brain to short circuit.

His hips stuttered in Jack’s firm, unyielding grip, and Jack groaned into his mouth as they each felt how hard the other one was.

Mac was only in boxers, Jack still in his jeans, but the friction between the two of them felt too good, so Mac pressed into him again, tightening his thighs around Jack’s waist, moaning into his mouth, a slight keen coming unbidden from the back of his throat, which was surprising in its own way, as Mac didn’t even know that he could _make_ that sound.

“Oh, god, Mac, as good as this feels, sweetheart, I’m takin’ shameless advantage of you,” Jack groaned out, and then slowly pulled back, sliding Mac’s legs from around his hips. “I just got back and your emotions are all over the place, and you don’t feel the same way I do, and I should know better than to do something like this,” he rambled, and it took Mac a second, but then as he slowly put it all together, he shook his head and reached back for him, pressing their foreheads together, keeping Jack on the couch, and gasped out, “No, Jack, you’re not taking advantage of me, I swear it.”

The older man let out a huff of air and then Mac watched as Jack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, not dislodging him, but still silently disagreeing with him.

“You don’t understand, Mac,” he got out, still sounding breathless, “I’ve felt this way about you a long time, now. Since the sandbox. Why do you think I came back for you and did a third tour?”

Unable to help himself, Mac breathlessly quipped, “Because I have no sense of self-preservation and without you I would have blown myself up?” and Jack laughed, but the younger man could tell that it was a weary one, and that he was a far cry from convincing him that he wanted this just as much as Jack did.

“True,” he muttered, “But I’m sure someone else would have been assigned to have your back, had I not been there.”

Mac countered with, “Not like you, Jack,” and Jack looked up at him, and Mac could tell from the look in his eyes that he was taken aback by the sincerity in his words, so he continued to explain.

“You’re not the only one who’s been pretty far gone, you know. For me, I kinda realized it after the sandbox. When you followed me to L.A. and never once talked about going home to Texas…I think that’s when I realized that if you had gone back home, well, I would have followed you.” Jack’s eyes went wide at that, and Mac nodded and said, “Yeah, I would have followed you, Jack. Found some sort of job fixing up trucks or something, just so I could stay with you. That was when I knew: you’re home for me, Jack…”

Something in the Delta’s expression went soft and he suddenly darted in and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Mac’s mouth and breathed out, “You’ve been home for me, too, for a long time, now, hoss…”

Mac smiled and softly suggested, “Think you can call me sweetheart, again? I, uh…I kinda like it...”

Jack gave him a soft, slow smile, and then reached down and hitched Mac back up so that he was sitting in Jack’s lap, his knees to either side of Jack’s hips, and then Jack slowly ran his hands up from Mac’s thighs to his waist, where he gave him a light squeeze, and then said, “I can call you whatever you want, sweetheart,” and Mac couldn’t help himself and leaned down and pressed his lips to Jack’s all over again.

Oh god, how the hell had he gone so long without this? he thought to himself as he made out with Jack on his couch like they were horny teenagers, hands sliding and exploring all the skin they could reach while practically never pulling apart except to gasp for air when they needed it.

They were both hard, but Mac seemed to realize that that wasn’t the point of what was happening at that moment, so they ignored it for the time being, only lightly grinding from time to time.

Lost in the taste of the man under him, Mac didn’t hear the front door opening and closing, until…

“Mac, I’m here to grab my jacket, I left it here last night. Think I left in your living room--oh holy god!” and they both pulled back, gasping, and there stood Riley, looking quite a bit hungover, wearing the same clothes from last night, and staring at the two of them as if she’d just seen ghost.

Mac was still in Jack’s lap, but he knew that his hair was mussed from where Jack kept on reaching up and running his hands through it, and his shirt was halfway off, because Jack had lifted it up and they’d gotten it over one arm, but the rest of the shirt still dangled off Mac’s left arm because he hadn’t been willing to let go of Jack and get rid of it entirely, far too distracted from running his hands over the older man’s shoulders.

He also knew that his neck was red from Jack’s stubble and that he most likely had a bite mark on his right shoulder, from when Jack had been lightly mouthing at it, and then Mac had thrusted down into his lap, and then his teeth had unexpectedly bitten down, causing a delightful reaction from them both.

“Uh, Riley, I wasn’t…I wasn’t expecting you,” he finally got out, and she now had a hand up to her eyes, shielding the two of them from her line of vision, and she nodded and said, “Yeah, I kinda figured that one out for myself, Mac. Uh, who’s…who’s your friend, there?”

Realizing that Riley hadn’t realized that he was in Jack’s lap, he didn’t know what to say, but Jack solved the problem for both of them.

“Hey, Riles. Wasn’t exactly expectin’ to say hello to you like this, but…I’m back,” he drawled, and then Riley’s hand dropped, she stared at the two of them with wide eyes, and Mac held his breath as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

He was only a few years older than her, after all, and he was making out with a man she considered to be a father, so it had to be awkward as hell…but he was taken by surprise when she suddenly grinned.

She then said, “First off, I’m super thrilled that you’re back, Jack…and second: I’m gonna grab my jacket and go and you two should _definitely_ keep catching up. Like…seriously,” she added, looking almost manically happy at seeing the two of them in such a compromising position. She then grabbed her coat (which had fallen to the floor in the midst of their shenanigans), and then darted out the front door, yelling over her shoulder, “Take your time, guys! Like, the rest of the week!”

And then she was gone, and Mac looked at the front door in confusion.

“What…what was that?”

Jack looked up at him…and then started to giggle and said, “Do you think _every_ one knew about us before we did?” and then Mac put it all together as well, and started giggling right along with him, and pressed his forehead into Jack’s shoulder and gasped out, “Oh, god, we are the biggest idiots in the world, aren’t we?” and he felt Jack nod.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I guess I was never really all that subtle about staring at your ass every time I could, smiling every time you even looked at me, and all that shit,” Jack remarked, and Mac added, “And I guess I _did_ laugh at all your stupid jokes and…stare at your ass, too,” he confessed, and they looked at each other and smiled.

Mac then looked down at himself and chuckled a second time.

As he tugged his shirt the rest of the way off, not seeing the point in keeping it on, he said, “So…wanna take this to the bedroom?”

Jack smirked back at him and reached out and grabbed the shirt in his hand and used it to tug him closer, so that they were chest to chest, and answered, “There is nothin’ that I would like more, darlin’,” and he pressed a long, lingering kiss to Mac’s lips and he leaned into it, relishing the freedom that he had been given to finally do so.

As soon as they pulled apart, however, Jack looked down at the shirt and said, “Wait…were you wearin’ one of my shirts, hoss?”

Mac shrugged.

“Maybe.”

Jack arched an eyebrow, but Mac felt no shame, and leaned in and pressed a kiss to just under his jaw and whispered, “I like sleeping in your shirts. Made me feel close to you when you weren’t here, Jack,” and at that, the hardened army man seemed to melt under him, and Mac yelped as Jack suddenly surged to his feet, keeping Mac’s legs wrapped around his waist, and then the older man whispered back to him, “You still gonna wear ‘em now that I’m back?”

Mac pulled his head back far enough to look him in the eye and then pressed another long, lingering kiss to his lips.

The next thing he knew, he was falling to his back on his unmade bed, Jack on top of him, his waist pressed nicely between his thighs, and then Mac finally answered, “Only if you want me to, Jack.”

Jack gave him a soft smile.

“That’s all the answer I needed, sweetheart…”

Mac smiled and pulled him back up for another kiss, unable to stop from kissing him. They sunk into it, and it didn’t feel in the least bit awkward. In fact, as Jack surged up between Mac’s legs, stripping off his own shirt and reaching down to slide Mac’s boxers off him, the only thing that Mac could think of was how _right_ it all felt.

Jack took his sweet time getting his own clothes off, teasing Mac the entire time, soft touches along his sides, over his hips, and across the tops of his thighs, keeping Mac strung as tight as a wire. Eventually, Jack was just as naked as Mac, and as soon as he was, he leaned back over him, his arms to either side of Mac’s head, pressing a long, _lingering_ kiss on his lips, and Mac felt himself melt a little bit more into the bed beneath him, wondering if this was how he going to die.

They were no longer rushing, but taking their time, fingers over naked skin, Jack’s hands skimming over his mostly unmarked body, while Mac strained to memorize every single dip, curve, and raised scar on Jack’s body, remembering where most of them were from, because Jack had either told him the story of how he’d gotten it, or Mac had been there when the Delta had received it.

Jack then shifted slightly, and Mac threw his head back and choked out, “Oh, that’s nice,” and Jack breathed into his neck, “About to get a lot nicer, Angus,” and Mac smiled.

Jack was home.

It couldn’t get any nicer than that.


End file.
